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Fiona wasn't a cruel person, so I couldn't figure out what the hell her game was.
"I just thought you two would hit it off. Kate needed a vacation. You are good in the woods. It seemed like a good fit."
She wasn't wrong.
I guess that was the problem.
We were a good fit.
We liked the same books, had a good time doing shit like playing board games, we'd walked to the lake where she pointed out little facts about whatever animals or bugs we passed by, about "crown shyness" which was what happened in the forest, the tree canopies growing with small gaps between them so that they could all share resources and thrive.
It had been surprisingly easy to get along with her.
But more than that, it had been far too easy to do other things with her.
Like share a bed.
Like become attracted to the smell of her fucking hair.
Like enjoy the feel of her when she laid on my chest, or wiggled back into me, seeking my nearness, demanding my attention.
She was smart and witty and interesting and sweet. But not so sweet that she was untouchable.
And, fuck, I wanted to touch.
I hadn't been prepared for the surge of attraction in my system to her, the way it got bigger and bigger until it was impossible to ignore, until I was moments from stripping her bare and having her right in that bed.
I tried to remind myself as I straightened and scrubbed the lower level that it was good we'd been interrupted, that it couldn't lead anywhere good to go to bed with someone I worked with, that a girl like her wanted nothing to do with a man like me, with a past like mine, with a job like mine.
It was better that things ended before they went too far, that we got back to our old lives, our old roles.
It would bring clarity to the whole situation.
I went back upstairs only after I was sure I worked off every bit of sexual frustration—hell, every bit of actual energy I had left—so that I could catch a little sleep before the sun came up, sure that I would be able to share the bed to get some warmth, but also keep my hands to myself.
But she wasn't there.
I immediately moved across the hall, wanting to tell her to come back to my room, to get warm again, even if it meant I would have to go sleep somewhere else.
But, in the end, I decided to just let it drop, let her have her privacy, even if it bothered me that I knew she was going to be in that bed cold, maybe even with her teeth chattering like it had been that first night without power.
It would only be one night.
Then she would be back in her apartment, comfortable, happy, away from men who had no business touching her.
I ended up not sleeping, just laying there, staring at the dark ceiling, watching the light come up through the window.
So I got up, powered the generator one last time, showered, made coffee, cleaned up after myself again.
There was no sign of Katie, not even after I heard the truck coming up the drive, the door slamming, bringing the owner of the cabin up the front path.
He was younger than I expected, somewhere around my age with black hair, blue eyes, and a tall, fit frame. Peeking out of his blue and gray flannel jacket were neck and hand tattoos that didn't exactly mesh with my idea of a rustic cabin owner.
He came up to the door, knocking, but moving in without waiting for an answer.
"You must be Rush," he said, giving me a head shake. "Your sister-in-law is a trip," he added.
"Tell me about it," I agreed, offering him my hand.
"Beau," he said, taking my hand, giving it a shake. "I should have known that woman was up to something when I'd asked if I should forward the welcome packet to the guests, and she replied that they would have everything they needed. Think that woman could talk herself out of a murder charge even if she was caught with the hot gun in her lap," Beau added, snorting. "Some friends and I handled the tree for you. The road is mostly clear. I will have the power company here later today."
"You're going to need more gas for the generator," I told him. "We cleaned everything up last night."
"Appreciate it. Oh, hey honey," he said, making my head turn to find that Katie had somehow managed to come soundlessly down the steps to stand just a few feet away without me noticing.
She looked tired, her eyelids puffy, purple smudges underneath. And even paler than usual, it seemed, as she stood there with slightly widened eyes, her mouth forming a little pouty O as she looked a Beau.
